


A lake of glittering crystal

by wickersnap



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Holidays, Ice Skating, M/M, Oral Sex, Winter Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28478766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickersnap/pseuds/wickersnap
Summary: Anakin watches Obi-Wan step onto the ice with a tumultuous mix of adoration and anticipation. He looks beautiful, as always, but when he flings out a hand to grab for the rink's railing, it's quite the sight to see all of his usual grace completely desert him.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 13
Kudos: 93
Collections: Obikin Secret Santa 2020





	A lake of glittering crystal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xeniaraven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xeniaraven/gifts).



> For the sweetest prompt of an ice-skating date, with one good skater and one bad skater! I really do adore the winter theme so this was a delight to receive :3c

“I still think you would have been better off bringing Ahsoka or Rex,” Obi-Wan grouses. The boots on his feet are warm and secure—a grace considering his poor circulation—but the ice under their blades feels anything but. He clutches at the wooden railing of the rink as one foot slides out past the other, unbidden, and he leans forward hurriedly as to not fall down so soon after stepping out. Peals of laughter ring through the air as Anakin glides gracefully past, spinning in a flourish of his long coat and scarf to face him.

“Come on Obi-Wan, it’s not so bad,” he says, grinning like an absolute imp. “Ahsoka said she’d rather shove me into a snow drift and go with Rex and the boys instead. Something about showing her up.”

Obi-Wan gives him a pointed look and shuffles cautiously along the rink edge. He lets go of the rail with one hand, flinging it out for balance, and glances to Anakin’s feet.

“Like this,” his boyfriend says, turning again and taking a few measured, sweeping strokes across the ice. Obi-Wan tries to copy him, he does, but Anakin makes it look so  _ easy. _

Yelping and flailing for the railing again, he presses his knees into the barrier in an effort not to slip. “I really don’t see how you’re staying upright, Anakin.”

Of course, not only has he the gall to make it look easy, but to look stunningly beautiful while he does. Graceful movements of his knees and ankles that propel him around the rink, daring little spins that have Obi-Wan’s heart lurching as if he’s going to fall. Anakin laughs and wiggles his eyebrows and does one quick, exhilarating-looking circuit of the rink before returning to stand in front of Obi-Wan and offer up his hands.

“Come on, I’ll catch you.”

The tips of their fingers are flushed with the cold, a little numb but soft when Obi-Wan brushes them together, skin to skin and rubber and plastic. The old, worn stitches of Anakin’s gloves scratch a little as Obi-Wan grips them and moves cautiously away from the wall.

“I’ve never understood the point of fingerless gloves,” he grumbles. His feet slip beneath him, cutting back and forth as he shuffles along, and he misses Anakin’s grin as he stares fixedly down in his uncertainty. 

“There  _ is _ no point to them,” he says. “They don’t have fingertips.” 

_ “Anakin!” _ Obi-Wan has to sigh to stop himself laughing, but even then a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “That was terrible.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Anakin squeezes his left hand around Obi-Wan’s right. “Come on, it’s one motion. Forwards and out, right foot, left foot.”

Obi-Wan grimaces but does as instructed. It’s so shaky at first that he fears he might cut off the circulation in Anakin’s fingers when he panics and clutches tighter, but Anakin merely adjusts his pace and tugs them along, letting him wobble and yelp and cling. He falls forwards into Anakin’s chest at some point and they laugh like it’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened.

“Are you sure you’ve done this before?” Anakin teases once they’ve made one slow pass of the rink. He lets Obi-Wan take hold of the barrier again and he leans on it like a man drowning, lifting as much weight off his feet as he can.

“Yes,” he sighs, “with Quin and Garen. I did tell you I wasn’t very good.”

Anakin shrugs, sliding back and forth in his restlessness. “Maybe you just need time to get the hang of it. It’s not like we get the chance to go skating more than a few times a year, and— _ shit!” _

Anakin yells as he goes down. One moment he’s there, the next he’s vanished, gone in a heavy, thudding tumble as his foot slips from under him and he falls near flat on his face in a sprawl of limbs.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan exclaims, lowering himself to kneel on the ice. Cold seeps instantly through the knees of his jeans, dampening more with every shift, but Obi-Wan ignores it in favour of snickering at the shocked look on his boyfriend’s face. Anakin gapes at the rink floor as he supports himself on his forearms, thankfully thrown up just in time to protect him, looking almost as if he’s offended at the  _ sheer audacity. _

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan chuckles. “Can you get up? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No! I mean, yes! I’m fine!” Anakin blinks out of his daze and quickly begins struggling back to his feet. Obi-Wan reaches out to steady him, pretending he isn’t laughing when Anakin tries to brush himself down as if nothing’s happened. “I’m fine,” he repeats.

Obi-Wan cradles his face between his hands and kisses him softly. “Good. And you meant to do that, of course.”

“Do what?” Anakin mumbles, pulling his sleeve back to check his prosthetic and pouting.

“Exactly, my dear. Now, would you like to carry on?”

Anakin reluctantly pulls away to skate up and down the rink side a few times, testing his steps, and then swirls back around to Obi-Wan’s side with a grin just as bright as before. 

“Come on, lean on my arm and copy me,” he says. Obi-Wan rolls his eyes but tucks his hand under the proffered arm, wobbling back to his feet and doing his best not to grab the railing like he so very much wants to. “Hey, you’ll get it in no time. You just have to follow what I do.”

“Taught many people how to skate, have you?” he asks as they set off. True to his word Anakin is a steady support, and being able to watch his feet in the  _ right _ direction is much easier than translating him while he’s moving backwards.

“No, but if I’m right, you have to give me another kiss as a thank you.”

Obi-Wan tears his eyes away from the ice a moment to catch Anakin’s gaze, smiling softly. “You only need ask, my love.”

Anakin bites his lip and looks back at Obi-Wan with eyes sparkling, full of mischief and joy. “I know.”

\- x -

“Are you warm enough?”

Obi-Wan takes the mug from Anakin with a smile, nodding as he takes a cautious sip.

“That’s lovely. Yes, thank you.” 

Anakin curls onto the sofa next to him, nursing his own mug and seemingly trying to pretend he isn’t pressing as close as possible. The chocolate is hot and sweet and a little spicy, the fairy lights on the walls are golden and glowing, and the blanket Obi-Wan’s wrapped around them both is gorgeously soft and fluffy. He aches a little, his knees and his thighs, from stumbling and tripping his way across the ice all afternoon, but in the end he’d only fallen twice and Anakin had managed to get him skating—properly skating—all on his own in under half an hour. 

If Obi-Wan had faked unbalancing once or twice for an excuse to get Anakin’s arms around him, he’s sure the other skaters remained none the wiser.

“Thank you for today,” he says. 

If he thinks about it, Obi-Wan can feel the bite of the chill wind on his cheeks and through his hair. He can still smell the cold, clean air and the hints of mulled wine and pine that had drifted to them on the breeze. Anakin’s fingers, warm on his waist and his face and his hands. The glide of his own feet over the cut up ice. Their coats and scarves fluttering around them, their hands joined in the middle.

“No need to thank me,” Anakin replies softly. “I wanted to go with you.”

“It was a lovely date.”

Anakin makes a small noise and curls up tighter. “I’m glad you thought so.”

Obi-Wan sighs. He frees a hand to run fingers through Anakin’s gorgeous, brassy-golden curls. “I’m sorry we haven’t been on more. I really thought I could…” 

“It’s okay,” Anakin says quickly. “We don’t need to rush. You’ve been busy.”

“And now I’m not.”

He reaches over to take Anakin’s half-emptied cup before it spills. He sits both on the side table and holds open the blanket to pull Anakin into his arms. 

“I’m sorry, my darling, I’m here now. All yours.”

“Hmm, yes,” Anakin hums as he tips them down to lie their heads on the armrest. “All mine.”

His leg wraps around Obi-Wan’s thigh and pulls him closer. Obi-Wan slides a hand around his waist and another up to brush a thumb over his cheek, adoring the glitter of the lights reflecting in his pretty, crystal blue eyes. Long lashes, smooth skin, bitten lips that curve into a lovely smile just for him.

Looking at Anakin is like looking at the Sun, or all the stars in the night sky, and sometimes it still baffles him as to why he’s been allowed to hold such a precious thing so close.

“Are you going to kiss me or do I have to do everything myself around here?”

Obi-Wan smiles. “I hardly think  _ everything _ is left to—”

He doesn’t get to finish, but that’s of no worry to either of them. Anakin pushes forward and kisses him himself, enthusiastically, lips soft and only ever so slightly chapped against his. His sigh fans across Obi-Wan’s cheek in a wash of warmth and they both sink into it gladly. 

“I’m beginning to think all of this was a ploy to get me right here,” Obi-Wan murmurs against his skin.

Anakin muffles a little laugh in chaster pecks. “Where else did you think we’d end up?”

Obi-Wan can’t help but stroke his cheek again with reverence, something heavy in his chest turning warm and expanding when Anakin turns his head to drop a kiss to his palm. He looks up at Obi-Wan, coyly, from under thick lashes, and Obi-Wan’s other hand drifts wantingly down the line of his side to rest at his cocked hip. The thigh he has around Obi-Wan’s waist pulls him tighter again, flexing the muscle under the hand that twitches and digs fingers into the divot they both know will bloom spectacularly with bruises if Obi-Wan isn’t careful. Not that Anakin would much mind, of course.

In fact he rocks forward gently with every flex of Obi-Wan’s fingers. Hands curl over Obi-Wan’s shoulders and grip, rucking his knitted jumper and beginning to sneak beneath the neckline. Warmth bleeds between their bodies, through clothes and captured by their fluffy blanket, and the delicate sweet scent of the chocolate catches pleasantly on the air. 

With the world outside quiet and still with the freezing effect of the cold, the quiet, happy noises of Anakin against him are a blessing and a melody. Obi-Wan’s mouth drifts down to kiss beneath his jaw, nip at the heated skin of his neck, suck marks into the junction of his shoulder. Anakin scratches nails where he’s finally given in and slipped both hands under his jumper to feel his chest. He whimpers a little when he rocks his hips into Obi-Wan’s again and Obi-Wan slides his hand down over the clasps on his jeans to grasp the growing hardness rubbing against his leg.

“This is certainly an enticement, isn’t it?” he murmurs into Anakin’s mouth. Anakin whines and presses even closer—Obi-Wan gets the message, flipping the button of his fly with one hand and tugging the zip down. It’s easy to pull Anakin out of his underwear and he wriggles a little to push his jeans down his thighs, pressing into Obi-Wan’s warmth, sighing happily with it. His fingers soon find their way beneath the band of Obi-Wan’s own trousers and play tricks down his rather interested length, fisting around the base and stroking him up to full hardness.

“That’s good, Anakin,” Obi-Wan hums. Tugging down his waistband he opens his grip, tangles his fingers with Anakin’s, takes both of their cocks at once. “Is this all right?”

Anakin nods immediately. His eyelashes flutter against his cheek and his hips twitch, eager.

“Keep saying my name like that and I’ll be set.”

Obi-Wan smirks and begins to guide their hands with more purpose. His other hand worms its way beneath Anakin’s side to slide down his back, gripping his arse firmly and drawing a squeak from his lips. He drags his palm over the head of Anakin’s cock and ruts their hips together, rocking gently, and resumes biting and sucking at his neck. Anakin whimpers and squeezes just right on the next upstroke, tilts his head for better access. A hot flush sweeps through Obi-Wan’s sternum to settle in the pit of his stomach.

“You’re beautiful,” he says into Anakin’s skin. “You do know that, Anakin? Gorgeous and soft and so  _ good _ for me.”

Anakin moans quietly. His fingers tighten again, and the blanket slips from his waist to thump harmlessly to the floor. Obi-Wan hauls him close and twists so he’s hovering above him as he lies on his back, his hair a halo of curls and tangles and his expression a stunning flush of arousal. He pulls Obi-Wan down by the neck to kiss him properly; Obi-Wan goes, more than willing to lick his way into that willing mouth as he uses the dripping of Anakin’s precome to ease the path of their hands. Anakin shudders and squirms and keens and arches into his hold.

“That good, sweetheart?” 

“Yes!” He whines, breathy. “Faster.”

Oh, he can do better than that. Obi-Wan smirks and shuffles back until he’s lying over Anakin’s legs, pushing up his top until he can lavish the flexing muscles of his abdomen with kisses and bites, trailing his way down to his flushed cock. He looks back up at Anakin just as his lips brush the flushed head and he darts out his tongue to dash away the droplet there. Anakin meets his eyes with a dark gaze, a pleading bob of his throat. 

“Anakin?” he asks.

_ “Please,” _ Anakin blurts out.

“Good boy.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t wait any longer. He ducks his head, taking Anakin’s cock seamlessly into the heat of his mouth and rolls it around on his tongue, gratified when he makes a punched-out sound and jerks beneath him. He grabs his hips to hold him steady and bobs up and down his twitching shaft, sucking on every other upstroke. When his jaw begins to ache he pulls up to lavish around the head again, taking one hand off Anakin even as he rocks and wriggles to quickly jerk the neglected rest.

“Fuck,” Anakin breathes. He sounds wrecked. It does wonderful things to Obi-Wan’s own forgotten arousal. “Fuck, Obi-Wan!”

Obi-Wan hums and pulls off long enough to command his attention again. 

“Anakin,” he says, slow and low. “What do you want?”

“Obi-Wan…”

“Hm?”

He squeezes the base of Anakin’s cock, pulling a strangled yell from him.

“Obi-Wan, please!”

“Yes, Anakin?”

Anakin’s chest before him heaves and glistens with sweat, still tangled in his clothes. Obi-Wan trails a nail around the crown of his cock.

“Please,” he whimpers. “Let me come.”

“That’s it, darling, so good,” he murmurs. He sucks the head of Anakin’s cock back into his mouth and hums around him as he gets back to work. Anakin’s fingers curl through his hair, so hesitant, so Obi-Wan moans and takes him down again. He can hear Anakin grow louder and more frantic until—

“Obi-Wan, please, I—”

Obi-Wan sucks harder as he pulls up to the head again and Anakin comes, hot, hard, and mewling loudly. He swallows it as best he can until Anakin’s spent, panting and listless on the sofa cushions. He pulls back on his knees and swipes his mouth with the back of his hand, leaning out to stretch his neck.

“Are you all right, my love?”

“Good,” Anakin replies a little breathlessly. “Fantastic.”

Obi-Wan smiles and lies back down on top of him. It takes a long moment of shared kisses and sweet smiles, but Anakin’s hands eventually wander back down to take hold of Obi-Wan’s cock once more. He pulls him off as best he can in their position as Obi-Wan continues to occupy his mouth, effectively muffling his own sounds at the same time. 

The fairy lights glint above them, bathing them in more than just the warmth climbing up Obi-Wan’s spine. Anakin must be pulling out as many stops as he can think of because he’s already so close again, gasping between kisses and melting in Anakin’s arms. Anakin looks amusingly happy when Obi-Wan pulls away to mouth weakly at his neck. He flicks his wrist and braces his prosthetic hand against Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“You close, Obi-Wan?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replies. “Yes darling, just keep—doing that.”

“Yessir,” Anakin laughs.

But Obi-Wan can’t even find the mind to roll his eyes, not when Anakin’s brought him right to the edge, so close.

His release hits him in a wave, caught, thankfully, in Anakin’s waiting hand. Obi-Wan rides through it with small rolls of his hips into Anakin’s fingers, collapsing rather listlessly onto his chest. The warmth of Anakin’s smiling lips graces his temple.

“Good?” he asks.

“The best,” Obi-Wan agrees. He turns his head to kiss the skin under his mouth. “Thank you for a wonderful day, my love.”

Anakin sighs and wraps his clean hand around Obi-Wan’s back. “Thank you, Obi-Wan, for being the best a guy could ever want.”

“I’m sure that’s not quite true.”

“I assure you, it is. I would know.”

“Would you, now?”

“Well now I think you’re fishing for compliments.”

Obi-Wan laughs tiredly. “Maybe I am. But, I think, you deserve the kudos for today.”

For a few minutes a comfortable quiet descends, a soft blanket over the room. Anakin’s heartbeat is steady in Obi-Wan’s ear, and he’s not sure there’s anything in the world for which he’d want to move away from where they are.

“I love you,” Anakin says suddenly. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you,” Obi-Wan answers. He traces the edge of Anakin’s cheek with a delicate finger. “For as long as you’ll have me.”


End file.
